


Unforgettable

by Naomida



Category: Invaders (Marvel), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 10:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naomida/pseuds/Naomida
Summary: Jim was in the middle of his kitchen, cooking lunch and not even paying half of his attention to the television broadcasting the news in the corner of the room when it happened.He turned around to stare with wide eyes at the screen when they pronounced the words “giant tsunami in Atlantis” and the carrot he had been peeling, along with the knife, fell from his hands as he watched through his television as a huge wave swallowed the entire eastern coast of Atlantis.Running to his television, as if watching it from up close would make a difference, he had a brief flashback of the last time he had been on one of those beaches – he could still feel with perfect clarity Namor’s cold hand in his as the prince got down on one knee, looked up into his eyes with a soft smile and started talking about the day he had met Jim, all those years ago, how it had been love at first sight, how their seven years together were the best years of his life, and would Jim please marry him?“Please no,” he murmured at his television screen as his phone in the back pocket of his jeans started vibrating.





	Unforgettable

Jim was in the middle of his kitchen, cooking lunch and not even paying half of his attention to the television broadcasting the news in the corner of the room when it happened.

He turned around to stare with wide eyes at the screen when they pronounced the words “giant tsunami in Atlantis” and the carrot he had been peeling, along with the knife, fell from his hands as he watched through his television as a huge wave swallowed the entire eastern coast of Atlantis.

Running to his television, as if watching it from up close would make a difference, he had a brief flashback of the last time he had been on one of those beaches – he could still feel with perfect clarity Namor’s cold hand in his as the prince got down on one knee, looked up into his eyes with a soft smile and started talking about the day he had met Jim, all those years ago, how it had been love at first sight, how their seven years together were the best years of his life, and would Jim please marry him?

“Please no,” he murmured at his television screen as his phone in the back pocket of his jeans started vibrating. He took the call without even looking at who it was and closed his eyes for a second when Jacqueline almost yelled at him, asking if he was watching the news. “I am,” he replied, biting down on his lower lip until it hurt a little. “I am, it’s… it’s so...”

“Yes,” she breathed, “I _know_.”

They didn’t say anything more but stayed on the line as new footage of the palace getting swallowed by the ocean were shown.

  


  


***

  


  


Jim was sitting on the couch, still watching the news, when Toro came home from school. The boy, bless him, didn’t say anything. He just set his bag down, sat down next to his father, looped an arm around his, and pressed their shoulders together.

For a while, Jim could almost pretend that it was enough to help him relax, but all the people on tv were talking about how no one had heard anything from or seen the prince, and Jim couldn’t lie to himself: he was starting to panic over it. Granted, he hadn’t seen Namor in a decade and always did his best to never hear about him or see anything of him, but still, it was the man he loved, even after all this time, and just because Namor never wanted to ever see his face again didn’t mean that he couldn’t be scared for him.

“Get the fuck out of my life,” had spat Namor the last time they had talked, taking the necklace Jim had offered him a long time ago off for the first time and throwing it at Jim’s feet.

The blond hadn’t moved, feeling numb, heart bleeding in his chest, tears burning in his eyes, knowing that nothing he could do or say would salvage what he had just broken.

 _Nothing_.

“I don’t want to ever see you again, understood?”

 _Love,_ Jim had wanted to say _, please I’m so sorry, please don’t do this, I can’t live without you._ Instead, he had simply started down at the necklace as Namor had left their shared apartment in New York without a backward glance.

Jim blinked at his tv screen, feeling numb once again. His broken-heart had never healed – couldn’t, not knowing that it was his own fault for hurting Namor and fucking everything up – but he had been able to live knowing that Namor was happy, back in Atlantis, or Paris, or Tokyo or wherever he chose to go.

Now though, with reports of dead people coming in, the numbers growing again and again, he couldn’t keep his emotions in check, couldn’t stop telling himself that he should have reached out, should have fought instead of letting him go.

Should have been with him when the tsunami had hit the Eastern coast of Atlantis, the one closest to the palace.

“Prince Namor is still missing,” reported the journalist on the screen, standing on a wrecked beach, the perfectly blue sky out of place compared to the wreckage underneath it, and Jim blinked at the tears in his eyes as Toro cuddled closer to his side.

  


  


***

  


  


Jim remembered being nineteen years old, standing all alone and scared at some party for rich people, thousands of kilometers away from home. People around him were speaking French, or German or Spanish, and he was too afraid to engage with anyone, with his stupidly American accented English. He had never felt so out of place before, wearing his best jeans with a clean white shirt that his coach had handed to him before the party, grumbling about dress-code and not making a fool out of anyone.

He had looked out the window, at the lights in the night glinting on the surface of the Seine, and had tried to imagine how proud Doctor Horton would have been, to see him invited to such a party, in Paris of all places. Too bad the only thing Jim had done since arriving had been to grab the first glass he had seen to occupy his hands and stand in a corner, hoping that nobody was looking at him and judging.

Sweeping his eyes across the room – they were actually on a boat, on the Seine, but it wasn’t moving and his coach had shushed him when Jim had tried to ask questions – his attention was caught the second he met dark eyes that fell on him at the same time as Jim’s fell on them.

The man was tall, with high cutting cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes that Jim simply _couldn’t_ look away from.

The man had also joined him about five second later, introducing himself as Namor. Jim had simply smiled, introduced himself as simply ‘Jim’ and done his best to seem interesting as they had started to talk.

They had ended the night making out somewhere on the boat where they could feel the breeze in their hair, Namor laughing softly against his shoulder when Jim had admitted to not even realizing that he was _Prince Namor of Atlantis_ and Jim, upon hearing that noise, knowing deep in his soul that this man was the love of his life.

  


  


***

  


  


“You didn’t have to do that,” sighed Jim, accepting Jacqueline’s hug and pretending he couldn’t see some kid with a smartphone film them from the other side of the street.

Seventeen years, and he still wasn’t used to the scrutiny.

“Of course I did,” she replied, letting go of him to fully step in the house and finally let Jim close the door between them and that damned paparazzi. “After all, fourteen hours of plane is nothing when it comes to my best friend. Where is Toro?”

“At school,” replied Jim, following her as she strode like she owned the place, slipping out of her shoes, leaving her handbag next to where Jim left his keys, and letting herself fall on the couch with a sigh, immediately grabbing the remote to put the television sound back on.

“Still watching the news, huh? How are you holding up?”

Jim sat down next to her, biting down on the corner of his lower lip for a second, knowing that trying to hide anything from her was pointless.

“I’m scared. They said they didn’t find anything at the palace and it’s already been three days. They know _for sure_ that he was in Atlantis when the tsunami hit, so what happened to him?”

“You know him,” she replied, reaching to take his hand and gently squeeze it, “he’ll show up when he’ll want to be found.”

Jim appreciated what she was trying to do, but it wasn’t going to work, not this time – not when he hadn’t slept in three days, too scared of looking away from the television for more than five minutes – because what if they found him while he was doing something else? What if they found him, and he was…

No. Namor couldn’t be dead.

He _couldn’t_.

“A lot of charities are on site, helping. They’ll find him.”

“I know,” he replied, rubbing at his forehead. He had spent his entire morning on the phone, sending money and asking people that were in Atlantis what was needed, how he could help.

Almost everyone had sounded pitying – and Jim hadn’t even been surprised to find that he was pathetic enough that everyone knew he was still madly in love with his ex even seven years after the breakup. They had also all assured him that he was doing everything he could to help them, short of being there in the rubble looking for survivors, and for a second he had thought of actually jumping into a plane and going. Unfortunately, he had a son, who had school and other activities that prevented him from doing so, so he had simply given more money and ended the call.

“Come on,” murmured Jacqueline after a while, sliding closer to him and opening her arms, “you need a hug and you know it. I came all the way here for that, so please don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

He scoffed and folded into her arms without hesitation, letting himself be held by his best and oldest friend, eyes closed and silently praying that Namor would turn up unharmed.

  


  


***

  


  


Jim and Namor had never hid. They had gone out together hand in hand after their meeting the very next morning, after Namor had invited Jim out for brunch. Paparazzi had followed them, and every magazine had started to speculate over who was this blond guy dating the Prince. Jim had barely started to make a name for himself since being signed for the Parisian football team, and he had been a complete no name back home in the US – and suddenly, his name had been on every lips, flashes of camera following him everywhere, people he didn’t know calling his name in the street and trying to shake his hand or hug him.

Maybe it should have put a damp on their relationship, maybe it should have been a huge shadow weighting down on them – but it hadn’t. Every time he was with Namor, the prince was the only thing he really noticed. His eyes, his smile, his voice, his hands, his smell – _his eyes_.

They had become a public’s favorite, everyone had been rooting for them – since the very beginning, and even after the end – and thinking back on it, Jim knew why.

They had been so in love with each other. Had followed the other all over the globe – Namor sitting through every single one of the match he played, although he didn’t care one bit about football, wearing a jersey with his name on it, cheering him on, while Jim learned the proper etiquette and went as his plus one in every social functions Namor was invited to, wearing expensive tuxes and smiling politely at every politician, royal or socialite he didn’t know the name of. Namor had taken him to Atlantis, had taught him his culture and language and had showed him everything there was to see about his beautiful country, and Jim had taught him how to live a simpler life from time to time, how to repair a car by himself, what to do when the power was out and he needed to check the fuse.

They had bought apartments everywhere together – one in Paris for during the season, when Jim needed to stay there to play and train, one in New York to visit Doctor Horton, one in Tokyo, Namor’s city of choice, a little chalet in Swiss, although Jim had never really managed to ski correctly despite being a professional athlete. They had adopted a cat together, because Jim loved cats and Namor loved Jim. They had loved each other freely, without ever holding back.

A little while after their seven years anniversary, Namor had taken Jim to Atlantis, had treated him to a diner, just the two of them, overlooking the ocean and the setting sun, before taking him on a walk on the beach, telling him all about his childhood memories there, before grabbing his hands, getting on one knee, offering him a ring, and a promise of forever, and his heart, whole and fragile, all to Jim’s.

Jim had said yes, of course he had, before getting on his knees too to kiss Namor and try to show him how much he loved him – because there were no words to express it.

They had spent an entire blissful decade together, before Jim had fucked everything up – before he had driven Namor away.

To this day, thinking back on their breakup made Jim sick in the stomach. Everything had crumbled underneath his feet – his relationship, his career, his entire life had been turned upside down. Magazines had only added fuel to the fire, rumors spreading about their breakup and the cause for it, and it hadn’t been long before the truth had come out – or at least a part of the truth.

People still hated Jim, to this day. Sometimes he received hate mail, and as pathetic as it was, he agreed with every word written on them.

The breakup and everything following it had hurt him so profoundly, he had never really been the same afterwards, but it had all been worth it.

He had a lot of regrets about how everything had unfolded, but ultimately, he didn’t regret his choice.

He looked at Toro, who was humming, looking down at his phone, music probably too loud in his headphones, and smiled, knowing that it was worth it.

  


  


***

  


  


Namor was found four days and six hours after the wave had hit Atlantis. He had been outside at the time, hadn’t had time to get somewhere safe – but he was alive, and well, although wounded and severely dehydrated – and for a second, as Jim closed his eyes and breathed easily for the first time in four days and six hours, he could almost pretend that everything was right and he could go back to his life.

“Where do you think they’re taking him?” asked Toro.

“Japan, maybe,” replied Jackie.

“He’ll want to stay in Atlantis until he’s sure everyone has been saved or found,” replied Jim, opening his eyes and meeting two pairs of surprised eyes. “Then he’ll go get better somewhere people won’t find him, or look for him. Probably in Europe, it’s on the other side of the globe, no one will expect him to travel so far.”

“Hm,” said Jackie, a gleam in her eyes that Jim had learned to recognize as trouble a long time ago. “How about you spend your summer break with me, in Madeira, Toro?” she asked, and Jim couldn’t really object to this when Toro’s face broke into a beaming smile.

“Really?! I’d love that! Can I?”

Jim nodded, smiling too when Toro excitedly clapped his hands and swallowed Jackie into a hug.

He knew what his best friend wanted, knew that she was giving him a choice, and that she wouldn’t judge him, no matter what.

That didn’t make it easier, because for once, Jim truly didn’t know what he was going to do.

  


  


***

  


  


Nora had reached out to Jim only six months after he had gotten engaged. Jim remembered with perfect clarity meeting her in a discreet and small café in upstate New York, a baseball cap on his head just in case. She had looked thin and pale and sick – not at all like the vibrant teenager he had once known, back when they were both still eighteen and Jim had only _dreamed_ of one day playing professional in Europe.

“I’m sick, Jim,” she had said, which hadn’t really been a surprise considering the hollows in her cheeks or the dark circles under her eyes. Jim had been ready to offer some money – they hadn’t really been friends, had only known each other for a few months before he had left for Paris but he understood that she would turn to him in case of financial struggles. It wasn’t like he needed all those dollars, after all.

She had slid a smartphone across the table before he could have spoken, and Jim had felt his stomach drop when he had peaked at the screen – at the photo of a sick-looking but smiling Nora and a child, with her olive skin and black hair, but Jim’s blue eyes and dimples.

“I’m so sorry,” she had murmured. “My husband passed away two years ago, and Toro knew he wasn’t his father. In fact, Toro knows you are. He’s about to be eight, and he loves soccer as much as you, ever since he was little.” She had stopped to cough at length in a tissue, before offering a shaky smile at Jim, eyes misty. “I’m sorry to do this to you. I had no way to reach you when I found out about him, you were already out of the country, and for a long time I tried to convince myself that it was better this way – that Toro wouldn’t fit in this crazy life of yours, but… you’ll be all he has, soon, and I thought now was as good a time as any.”

Jim hadn’t moved. He had simply stared down at the photo, not quite believing it.

He’d had sex with Nora exactly once, just before being signed with Paris. She was cute and funny, Jim liked her and wanted to know for sure if he really didn’t like girls at all or if he just hadn’t met the right one yet – and had been proven that he was absolutely and totally gay. They had been young and stupid, hadn’t used protection, but Nora had sworn that it would be okay if he simply pulled out at the right time.

That hadn’t worked, apparently.

“You waited eight years to tell me that I may have a son.”

Nora sniffed suspiciously, eyes growing mistier, and nodded.

“He’s yours, I promise. We can take tests, if you want, and I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t want any of this to happen. My husband raised him like he was his and wanted to adopt him, before we both were diagnosed, and now… Well...” her lower lip started to wobble and Jim thought for a second about what kind of attention a crying sick woman would bring.

“Alright,” he had sighed, getting his wallet out to pay for the coffees, “let’s get out of here. I’ll drive you home, you can tell me everything on the way.”

She had nodded, looking relieved and grateful, and Jim, instead of calling Namor and telling him everything right there and then, before it all started, had gone with Nora to her house.

  


  


***

  


  


As Jim stepped out of the private jet that he had been sent and squinted at the early morning sun, Namora strode closer, grabbed his carry on and threw it into the waiting car waiting there, on the tarmac.

“Took you long enough,” she said as she sat down on the driver’s seat and closed the car’s door with force.

Jim rolled his eyes, and went to sit on the passenger seat. He had always been slightly scared of her – which never failed to make her laugh, “Namor is way scarier than me” she always said, “and you’re not scared of him!”. It was hard to explain that he found Namor adorable when the man did, actually, look scary – it was just that Jim could see right through that.

He had reached out to her to inquire about the Prince’s whereabouts exactly two months after the tsunami – and four days after Jackie and Toro’s departure for Madeira. She had sighed, had grumbled that it was better late than never, before giving him a date, time and address in upstate New York and ending the call. A quick google search had told him everything he had needed to know – Namora was going to send a private jet, which was totally the family’s style, and as Jim had been expecting she was already here to drive him to wherever Namor was.

“You know, the only reason I’ve been sending you all those texts and emails all those years was because I was waiting for this moment. I’m just sad it took something as big as a tsunami to finally have you wake up.” Namora sighed when Jim didn’t reply and kept on looking at the scenery they were driving through – Swiss was beautiful anytime of the year. “I told him that I had a surprise, but I think he knows that it’s you. You both have this strange sixth sense when it comes to the other.”

This time, a tiny smile pulled at Jim’s mouth. It was true, they always knew when the other was close, or coming, or getting sick or hungry or tired. They had always been in sync like that.

“I’m only staying for a few days,” he said after a while, after Namora had turned the radio on and started humming along to some pop song Toro liked.

“At least you came,” she replied, and that was the end of the conversation.

  


  


***

  


  


“Are you cheating on me?” had asked Namor, sitting on the couch, eyes slightly puffy, like he had been crying, when Jim had stepped into their living-room.

It was the middle of Autumn in New York, and the city was beautiful, all golden hues. The sun was starting to set, but Namor hadn’t turned any light on, leaving half of his face and body slightly obscured.

“Of course no,” had replied Jim, a bad feeling at the pit of his stomach – knowing, deep down, that he couldn’t lie anymore, couldn’t tell him once again that he was seeing friends, or visiting Doctor Horton’s grave, when he was, in fact, seeing his son. “I’d never do this to you. I love you more than anything.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing? Why are you lying to me? Disappearing for days on end, thinking I don’t realize that all your excuses are fake. What are you doing?”

Jim had sat down next to him, and had told him everything, and Namor had predictably reacted _very_ badly.

He wasn’t to blame, Jim knew that he had fucked up the day he had decided not to tell his future husband that he had a son he knew nothing about. For some reason, he had been scared to tell him, at first, and then as time had passed, it had only grown more difficult to tell the truth, because now Jim actually _knew_ Toro, and was getting increasingly prepared to actually be his guardian.

So, Jim had said nothing as Namor had screamed, and cried, and screamed some more, until he had taken Jim’s left hand to get the ring he had put there back, throwing his necklace at Jim’s feet and leaving.

Jim knew that it had been his fault, so he had waited three weeks before trying to call Namor, but the Prince had never picked up, no matter when Jim called, or from which number – as if Namor instinctively knew that it was him – and after three months of absolute radio silence and being stalked by paparazzi wherever he went, Nora had passed away.

Trying to grieve her and his relationship with Namor while also moving out of their former shared apartment to a comfortable house in upstate New York, near Toro’s school, and trying to comfort the boy had taken all of his energy – and Jim had had to make choices. There was no forgetting about Toro and Nora, so he had stopped calling Namor, and had tried to stop thinking about it, never glancing at a single magazine or even looking at his television for almost a year, telling himself that it was better this way, that the Prince didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and that if that ever changed then he would come to him – although Jim knew Namor, knew that he would never, that the only way they would ever speak again was if Jim fought him tooth and nails for that.

Jim had gutted their relationship and had let it bleed out and die while still trying to learn how to be a half-decent father, and considering that Toro had turned out more than okay, he could confidently say that he hadn’t done such a bad job with him.

  


  


***

  


  


Jim had done a _very_ bad job at handling his breakup, though. Thinking about it still hurt like it did the very first day. It still kept him up at night, he still couldn’t look at their old photos together, or speak about it with anyone, or go back to certain places where they had gone together.

Retiring earlier than planned had seemed like the logical next step, after moving in with Toro in their new home, and Jim had been grateful for the break – knowing that he couldn’t go back to Paris without Namor, that he couldn’t face anyone, knowing that they all could see the heartbreak on his face, and that none of them understood why.

By the time everything had started to settle around them, the magazines had gotten photos of Jim and Toro, and the rumors had been spreading, but Jim had never spoken about it, and was glad whenever he inevitably stumbled upon Namor on television being asked about it and he absolutely verbally murdered the journalist without ever saying a single word about Jim or Toro.

Now thought, as Jim was following Namora inside the chalet that was technically still half his, he couldn’t help but regret how he had handled it – how he hadn’t tried to send Namor an email before showing up unannounced.

“Relax,” she said softly, stopping in front of the gym’s door, “you know what he looks like naked, you have absolutely nothing to be afraid of.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, not knowing how thinking about Namor naked would make it any better, but she opened the door before he could reply and he didn’t have a choice but to walk in.

His breath caught, he stopped after only one step in the room, and his heart did a little lurch.

There, walking on the treadmill, wearing one of those little tank tops that let the sides of the chest to the view, was Namor, as gorgeous as ever, with some sweat on his neck, and looking straight ahead.

“I told you to leave me alone, Namora,” he grumbled without looking in the direction of the door, and Jim felt something in him light up at finally hearing his voice with his own ears, after all those years.

“It’s me,” he said, simply, watching as Namor almost skipped a step when he turned around and got off the treadmill, eyes wide open, lips parted, chest rising and falling faster than when he had been exercising.

“What… what are you doing here?” he asked, frowning and reaching back to grab the bottle of water he had left on the treadmill, taking a sip without looking away from Jim – who suddenly wanted some water to drink too.

“I wanted to see how you were, and to say that I’m sorry for what happened to Atlantis.”

Namor worked his jaw for a second, before giving him a small nod.

“Thank you,” he said. “You can go now.”

Jim tried to hide his disappointment, but its taste was bitter on his tongue and no matter what he did, he couldn’t really control the muscles of his face anymore.

“Alright,” he murmured, “I’ll be staying at the usual hotel until tomorrow night, in case you want to talk.”

Namor didn’t stop him from leaving, but Jim was almost glad for that, every single one of his limbs shaking just from having exchanged a few dozen words with him.

  


  


***

  


  


As the day turned into evening and Jim was trying to decide whether ordering all the desserts available in room service and eating it all in the hope of drowning his feeling in sugar was pathetic or not, someone knocked on his door.

For a second, Jim wondered if anyone had seen him get in the hotel, if an employee had called the paparazzi or was a fan – but he knew this hotel, knew their staff, knew that they would never do something like that – which meant that it was probably Namora, here to either make fun of him or try to convince him that all hope was not lost.

It was nice of her, really, but Jim was an adult, he could handle the truth – had been doing just that for seven years already.

There was another set of knocks, and Jim got up from the couch with a sigh, shuffling to the door while running a hand through his hair, only to open the door and freeze.

Namor raised an eyebrow, eyes running up and down his body, probably judging his pajamas – which were only plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt so old, it was almost completely transparent. The Prince had changed out of his workout attire, of course, and standing there on the plush carpet of the hotel, with his pristine white shirt, black jeans and leather shoes, he looked better than Jim could remember him ever looking.

“Please, come in,” he said, stepping back, when the prince kept on looking without a word, swallowing his saliva with difficulty when Namor brushed past him, his cologne still the same.

“This place hasn’t changed at all,” said Namor, walking to the floor to ceiling window on the other side of the room and peaking through the drawn curtains.

“I think they just keep this one room like this on purpose.”

“For us, you mean?” asked Namor, still looking out, with a scoff. “ _Please_ , last time we came here was what, twelve years ago?”

“Fourteen, I think,” replied Jim, watching as Namor turned around, meeting his eyes and leaning back on the room’s closed door.

“Fourteen years,” repeated Namor, leaning back against the window too, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why did we even come here, in the first place? I can’t remember if it was because of the Olympic games or because that American friend of yours had recommended it to you.”

“Steve,” nodded Jim, unable to keep a smile off his face, “yes, I think he’s the one who told me about this hotel, but you’re the one who insisted on coming when you heard that I had never skied before.”

“And who would have thought that you’d be so bad at this?” replied Namor, laughing softly, the smile making him look softer, tender – more familiar, too.

Jim found nothing to reply to this, so he stayed silent, feeling his heavy heart hammer against his ribs with hope – and not managing to stop himself from hoping, although he was absolutely certain that he would be disappointed.

“I’m here because I wanted to thank you for coming all to way here to see if I was well,” said Namor after a while, and his words seemed to resonate around the large room and all the space between them. “It was hard on me, I could barely walk in the weeks following the incident.” Jim nodded, noting that Namor wasn’t naming what kind of incident it was – he was probably traumatized and very few had noticed or even thought of it being possible. The great Namor was well known for his unwavering poker-face, after all. “A lot of people were lost, _my_ people, and that...” he looked away from Jim, at least a dozen emotions passing over his face in the span of a few seconds, but Jim knew all of them, knew everything that had been going through Namor’s head and heart, even knew what he was thinking right this instant, and he leaned away from the door, taking two steps closer to the Prince, “it was hard for me, to think that they all died and there was nothing I could have done to save them, to prevent it from even happening.”

“You know it’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty,” he replied, eyes meeting Jim’s again and jaw and shoulders squaring, like he was waiting for a punch or something.

Jim took two other steps in his direction before stopping, right in the middle of the room, by the couch.

“What else?” he asked, watching as a muscle jumped in Namor’s jaw.

“You’re all I could think about, when that building fell on me and I stayed stuck under there for four days. Your stupid face, it was all I could see whenever I closed my eyes, and you know what? I regretted not reaching out after our breakup, just to see how you were, if you were managing suddenly having a kid to take care of. That’s all I could think about. That leaving had been the right thing to do, but not kicking you out of my life completely.”

Jim swallowed the lump of emotions blocking off his throat, before starting to speak.

“I didn’t sleep a second, while you were missing. I couldn’t, not until I was sure that you were alright, and this entire time, all I could think about was that _I_ should have reached out to you. That I should have tried harder, shouldn’t have just let you ghost me like you did.”

Namor gave a wet chuckle, and finally took a step away from the window, uncrossing his arms to put his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Jackie came all the way from London just to keep me from jumping into a plane and go to Atlantis to look for you myself – and to be honest I would have done this the second I heard about what had happened if it hadn’t been for Toro.”

“Toro,” repeated Namor, a simple exhale of air, but hearing him pronounce his name settled something deep into Jim’s chest – something that he hadn’t even known was churning with anxious energy up until now. “How old is he now, seventeen?”

Jim nodded, watching as Namor took another step.

“I can’t believe it’s been seven years.”

“You haven’t aged a day,” replied Jim, smiling when Namor did.

“I wish I could say the same,” he threw back, the amused glint in his eyes taking away any venom in those words, and he took the last two steps separating them.

With his shoes, Namor was even taller than he usual was, and Jim had to crane his neck to look at him, which only made the hot thing rolling around his stomach hotter and heavier. The temperature in the room seemed to grow by five degrees at least when Namor tilted his chin down to look him in the eyes, and the step standing between them felt like an entire stadium separating them.

Jim wanted to cross that step, wrap his arms around Namor and bury his face against his neck – to stay in this position ad vitam aeternam, or at least until he was forced to move.

He stayed right where he was instead, barely breathing, heart hammering in his chest and ears as he watched Namor bring a hand up and lightly brush it over his disheveled hair.

“Almost in your forties and you still don’t know what to do with your hair,” he murmured, an amused smile twisting his lips and crinkling his eyes.

“You’re the one who’s thirty-eight, I can still pass off as closer to thirty than forty,” replied Jim, heart skipping a beat when Namor’s hand trailed down the side of his head to cup his jaw, thumb brushing against his cheekbone while his other fingers tangled into his hair.

“You’ve said it yourself, I haven’t aged in a decade.”

Jim laughed, taking a half-step up and finding that he could breath easier when Namor mirrored him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, looking up at the Prince, leaning into his space, hands reaching out by themselves to hold Namor’s waist. “I never stopped loving you, all these years.”

“Me neither, love,” replied Namor, thumb gently brushing against Jim’s skin, “there’s only ever been you.”

 _Will you take me back?_ Jim wanted to ask, but he knew this wasn’t the time for such a question although, considering the look on Namor’s face, the answer would probably be yes.

“Can I buy you dinner?” he asked instead, and Namor smiled bigger than before and nodded before leaning down to kiss Jim on the forehead – the blond closing his eyes and pulling him closer, heart about to burst with how happy he was.

  


  


***

  


  


Jim was watching closely as Namor swiped through the photos on his phone – most of them of Toro, and him, and sometimes the flowers he was growing in the garden that for some reason were very popular on his instagram.

Namor stopped on a photo, frowning slightly and zooming in, and Jim felt the anxiety surge through his body for a second, before Namor was smiling and angling the phone so he could see the screen and the photo of Niels on it.

“How is he?” asked Namor, the smile not leaving his face as he looked at the next photo – another one of the cat.

“I think he’s still mad at me that you left, but otherwise he’s good.”

“Still likes to jump around the walls?”

“Yep, still insufferable but cute,” laughed Jim, thinking back on the first time the then-kitten had started to jump on the walls and Namor had started on an epic monologue in Atlantean to curse the poor animal. Unsurprisingly Niels and Namor had fallen in love with each other, although Namor would never, in a million years, admit to it.

Namor hummed, pausing on a photo that had been taken by Jackie just before she had left with Toro for Madeira. Jim had his arm around Toro’s shoulders, and the both of them were looking at each other, laughing loudly, Jim holding his stomach with one hand and already half bent. Jackie had said some stupid ridiculous pun right as she was taking the photo, and this was the result – and Jim felt every single one of his muscles relax when Namor smiled at the photo, eyes growing kind and loving.

“I can see some of you in him,” he said, looking up at Jim. “You have the same eyes.”

“He’s a great kid,” replied Jim, unable to stop himself from smiling softly whenever he thought about his son. “It’s still hard to realize that I helped raise him, but he really did turn out great, I’m sure you’d love him.”

“I’m sure I would,” replied Namor, just as room service was knocking on the door and announcing themselves, but for a second the two men stayed right where they were, sharing an intense look that promised probably way too much, way too early – but it wasn’t like they had ever done things in half.

  


  


***

  


  


Three days later, Jim was walking out of another private jet in Madeira, with Namor in tow. He didn’t really know how it had happened – Namor had stayed at his hotel for almost those three entire days, only leaving once to go grab two giant suitcases and coming back, still wearing the plaid shirt Jim had lent him, asking where they were going now.

They hadn’t talked much about this – about what they were to each other. Mostly they had caught up, telling the other what they had done those past seven years, what they had seen and who they had met, before deciding, without exchanging a single word, to go join Jackie and Toro in Madeira.

They hadn’t kissed either, but had shared the same bed and gone to bed and woken up each morning holding onto each other, so Jim was pretty sure he didn’t have a lot to worry about – especially considering the fact that Namor was practically sitting on his lap during the whole flight.

Jim had texted Jackie telling her that he was joining them but failed to mention that he wasn’t alone, and the second he stepped into her villa and met her eyes, he knew that it was the right thing to do just because of how hilarious she looked, holding onto a bright red drink, with a beach hat on and big sun glasses on the tip of her nose, standing there frozen with her mouth open.

“Namor?” she asked.

The prince grabbed her into a hug instead of replying, and Jim had to admit, just once and just to himself, that watching Jackie hug him back made him feel more confident in his possible future with Namor than anything else could have.

“Papi?” asked Toro, right before he was stepping into the large entryway too, and Jim’s heart skipped a beat as the teenager froze too, looking at Namor with big round eyes.

Jackie cleared her throat, stepping out of Namor’s embrace and sending a small amused but still surprised smile to Jim, who was still transfixed by his son and the love of his life looking at each other without a word.

“You must be Toro,” finally said Namor, holding his hand out.

Toro nodded slowly, grabbing Namor’s offered hand and yelping in surprise when the prince used it to pull him into a quick but efficient hug, completed by a clasp of his shoulder.

“It’s nice meeting you,” managed to say Toro once Namor had let go of him, which only got him a nod.

Then Namor was turning to look at Jim, who couldn’t help a beaming smile and a nod of his own – because he knew that this was an olive branch, knew that this meant Namor was ready to hear him out and maybe forgive him, knew that this was the second chance he had never dreamed of having.

There was no way he was screwing up again.

  


  


***

  


  


“No this one is not ugly enough,” said Namor, grabbing the neon green t-shirt that Jim had been holding up and throwing it back into the bin it had come from, not even blinking when a flash blinded them for half a second, “we need to find the ugliest one, or Namora won’t be happy.”

“I honestly still don’t know if the two of you love or hate each other,” replied Jim, sparing a quick glance at the three paparazzi standing outside of the shop and taking photos without a pause, before he was shuffling closer to Namor – just because he wanted to and could now.

Or at least that was what he had understood after Namor had grabbed him by the waist the night before, had pulled him in until Namor was pressed between a wall and Jim’s chest, and had kissed him until they were both out of breath and hard in their jeans.

They hadn’t talked much after that – but they had only been in Madeira for twenty hours, and considering that Jim wasn’t planning on letting Namor out of his sight any time soon, they had all the time in the world for that.

For now, they were looking for an ugly tourist t-shirt that Namor could buy for Namora.

“You know that it’s a love-hate relationship,” replied Namor, frowning at the next t-shirt he found – a green and purple monstrosity that had some slogan written in pink across the chest and while Jim didn’t understand Portuguese, he could only guess what it said as Namor snorted and chose to keep it.

Jim stayed silent as Namor paid for the t-shirt, grabbed his hand and left the shop, apparently unconcerned by the paparazzi that started following them to their car.

It wasn’t until Jim was driving them through the island that Namor spoke up.

“When you leave, will you let me come with you?”

“Of course,” he replied, letting go of the gear stick for a second to squeeze Namor’s hand in his. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go anywhere without you, now.”

Namor laughed softly, and just for a second Jim looked away from the road to admire him, with his beaming smile, hair flying in the wind and happy almond eyes.

“I love you,” they both said at the same time, sharing a private smile, and Jim focused back on the road as Namor put a hand on his knee and left it here.


End file.
